


Steelheart

by CrossBownes



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, How Do I Tag, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whump, if I ever manage to finish this, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossBownes/pseuds/CrossBownes
Summary: After a heroic rescue mission, Agent Adora Greyskull is recruited to the international intelligence organization Peacekeeper Association Zero. But when enemy operatives manage to steal the plans to a dangerous experimental weapon, Adora will have to reconnect with a ghost from her past to prevent global catastrophe.She-Ra but it's a buddy-spy story, with a bit of Metal Gear sprinkled in for fun.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Thaymore, Part 1

**May 14th, 2010 | 12:34 PM**

_“At about 10:30 AM today, five armed gunmen stormed Thaymore Town Hall. There have been five confirmed casualties and early estimates suggest that the terrorists have taken at least six hostages, including Thaymore mayor John Reynolds and Senator Micah Brightmoon, who had been visiting for the town’s bicentennial celebrations. While the identities and allegiances of these terrorists remains unknown, they have put forth a list of demands, including the release of…”_

Special Agent Adora Greyskull reached to turn down the breaking news report crackling over the radio as the armored truck pulled to a stop just short of the police barricade surrounding the town hall. She finishes screwing the suppressor tightly onto her sidearm and looks up at her partner, sitting across from her. Catra looks almost too relaxed for the situation, leaning against the side of the truck lazily with her arms crossed, but Adora can see the way her heterochromatic eyes flick to the gun before meeting her own, the other woman giving Adora a sly wink.

“Relax, Adora. They won’t even know what hit them.”

“In and out, sneaky beaky,” Adora agrees, returning the other woman’s grin.

Their earpieces crackle to life, causing Catra to sit up and pay attention.

 _“Agent Greyskull. Agent D’riluth. I trust you’re prepared for insertion?”_ Director Weaver’s drawl is as haughty and detached as always, but years of training means Adora knows how to pick up on the slight undertones in her commanding officer’s voice, like the tension currently setting her on edge. A glance at Catra confirms that her partner picks up on it too.

“Yes, Director. We’ve checked gear and weapons are hot. We’re ready to move when you give the word.”

_“And I trust you know the plan?”_

“Yes ma’am. They’re keeping the hostages away from the windows, most likely in the interior offices. We’ll enter through the west window on the second floor by way of the fire escape before making our way there. They always have one man on the fourth floor for a bird’s eye view and one watching the main entrance, so we’ll have to watch for three hostiles at most. The senator and mayor will probably be held separately, so one of us will escort the hostages to extraction while the other scouts for the other two. Once the hostages are clear police move in to neutralize remaining threats, and we’re home free.”

 _“Very good. Do you understand, Agent D’riluth?”_ Even over the radio, the disdain is clear in Weaver’s voice. Catra rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Director.”

_“Excellent. You’re clear for insertion, agents. Make HORDE proud.”_

~~~  
**May 14th, 2010 | 12:36 PM**

The police have cleared a path for the two agents to the alley alongside the building, giving them just enough cover to move quickly past the perimeter and up to the hall. It’s relatively small for an administrative building, only five stories tall. But then again, Adora muses, Thaymore is a pretty small town. She stays low as she and Catra hug the wall, moving as silently as shadows to the fire escape.

Adora reaches it first, turning and lacing her fingers together to give Catra a boost up to the platform. The brunette hops up with ease, reaching back down to take Adora’s outstretched hand and pull her up after her. From there, it’s a simple matter to climb up the next ladder to find themselves just outside their entry point. 

Adora presses herself to the wall next to the window, then freezes as she hears a faint noise from inside. She quickly raises a hand, stopping Catra in her tracks as her partner comes up the ladder. Adora nods to the window, giving Catra a quick series of hand signs. _Enemy inside. Alone. Hasn’t spotted us._ Catra nods, and quietly draws her gun. The two lock eyes for a moment, both women taking a deep breath before Adora reaches down to grasp the windowsill, raising her free hand to give her partner a silent countdown. _Three, two one…_

She yanks the window open sharply as Catra dives forward, sliding through the window in one fluid motion. There’s a muffled shout of alarm, followed by two quick gunshots, and Adora’s blood runs cold. A silent second passes. Then another. After what feels like an eternity, Catra’s voice finally comes through Adora’s earpiece.

“Clear. Watch your step, though. Bastard went and bled all over the floor.”

Adora ducks through the window, sliding over the desk under it to land on her feet, nearly slipping before Catra catches her by the arm. 

“What’d I tell you, huh?”

It’s Adora’s turn to roll her eyes as her partner pulls her to her feet. She looks down at the body of the terrorist on the floor, a neat bullet hole in his chest and another in his neck, dark blood beginning to pool around the corpse, staining the dirty white tile of the floor. She swallows, looking away quickly. One down, four to go, she tells herself. Catra notices her glance and winces.

“Well, if they didn’t see us coming, they definitely know we’re here now. Guess I should’ve used a suppressor, too.”

“Too late for that now,” Adora replies, looking quickly around the room. It looks to be some minor department, a mostly open office space with a few desks around the edges of the room. Not too busy, probably—the lack of papers and clutter means the employees were probably off for the bicentennial when the attack began.

Adora draws her weapon and joins Catra by the door. Her partner is listening intently, one ear to the wood.

“Don’t hear anything, although they’re probably on their way after they heard the shots.”

“We’ll just have to be quick, then,” Adora counters, racking her brain to remember the blueprint of the building they had studied on the way here. “All right. They’re probably holding the hostages in the central office, which should be on this floor. We want to take...the first right, then the third door on the left. And be prepared for one to be in with the hostages.”

Catra nods. Adora clicks the safety off her sidearm as her partner opens the door, stepping quickly into the hallway. No shout, no burst of gunfire. Adora peeks around the door the other way. Empty. 

“Clear,” she confirms, and begins to make her way down the corridor, the light tap of Catra’s boots behind her reassuring Adora that her partner has her back.

~~~  
**May 14th, 2010 | 12:39 PM**

Their progress through the building is quick and quiet, Adora leading the way with her weapon at the ready, Catra hot on her heels. Despite the earlier gunfire, it doesn’t seem like any of the other hostiles are coming to investigate—they don’t meet anyone on their way to the internal office.

No one, that is, until they reach the office itself. Adora freezes as they come to the final turn, hearing the telltale crackle of a radio. She holds up a hand and Catra stops short behind her. As silently as possible, Adora slips a pocket mirror from her vest, slowly reaching out to poke it around the corner, checking the turn through the reflection. 

One gunman, standing right in front of the door to the office. There’s two windows into the office from the hallway, and Adora can’t see them clearly with the mirror. For all they know there could be two more hostiles just waiting for them.

Adora pulls the mirror back and stows it, chews her lip as she thinks for a moment before turning back to Catra with a quick series of hand signals. _One hostile. Windows. Flash in five._ Catra nods acknowledgement and gathers herself as Adora tugs a flashbang grenade from her belt and pulls the pin. She silently mouths to Catra: _Three, two, one_ and tosses the grenade around the corner.

Clink.  
Clink.  
**_BANG_**

It’s impossible to get used to the deafening burst of a flashbang, but even as the flash of light around the corner fades Adora and Catra are already in motion, surging around the corner. The guard is completely stunned, covering his eyes and staggering back, mouth moving although neither agent can make out the words. Adora drops him with two shots to the chest and he crumples to the ground. 

Adora glances quickly at the windows. Closed, curtains drawn, no sign of any enemies waiting to gun them down...but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. She glances at Catra, who had stepped over to check the fallen terrorist’s body, and nods to the office door. Catra scurries over, each agent taking up a position next to the door. Once again, they lock eyes. Once again, they take a deep breath, and Catra grabs the doorknob, yanking it open as Adora ducks inside, gun raised-

And stops cold.

Four hostages, tied hand and foot and gagged, their eyes wide with terror. Three are kneeling on the floor in front of the reception desk, but the third is standing, held on her feet by the terrorist behind her, pressing a gun to his head.

The ringing in Adora’s ears has subsided now, and she can make out what the man is saying.

“Put your gun down,” he hisses, pressing his own weapon harder against the bound man’s head and inciting a terrified whimper. Adora swallows, frozen, but even that slight hesitation makes the gunman more desperate. “I said drop it!” He screams, his finger visibly tightening on the trigger as the hostage screws his eyes shut.

“Okay, okay!” Adora yelps. She drops her gun with a clatter, raising her hands. “Stop, don’t hurt him!”

The man doesn’t hesitate for an instant. His hand seems to move in slow motion, the barrel of his pistol moving from the hostage’s head to level directly at Adora, just as she realizes her mistake.

~~~

Instinctively, Adora shuts her eyes, and in that split second her life flashes before her eyes. Her childhood home, or rather, homes, bouncing around the foster system, every year a new town, a new school, a new family. How she had learned to be polite, to be obedient, to be a _good girl_ so that maybe, just maybe, one of these families would want to keep her. Until finally it paid off. 

Those few years with Razz had been wonderful, perfect even, the happiest Adora had ever been. She had been so happy when Adora had been accepted to college, and Adora had finally felt at home.

Razz died halfway through her senior year. It wasn’t anything too dramatic, no sudden illness or calamity. The woman had just passed on in her sleep. She _was_ incredibly old, after all. But it had left Adora alone all the same. All of a sudden she was lost again. She didn’t have a real home, she didn’t even have a plan for when she graduated, and now she was once again without any family. And that was how Weaver had found her.

It was abrupt, unexpected, inconspicuous. A cool female voice on the phone line, asking Adora if she thought she had what it would take to protect her country. She had said yes, and the next thing she knew Director Sharon Weaver had recruited her into the Homeland Operations for Recon, Defense, and Espionage. HORDE.

And just like that, she had family again. Well, maybe not family, but a squad. Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio—even if the big guy hardly said anything.

Catra.

_Catra._

Adora’s eyes snap open, staring right down the barrel of that gun. She has to move, to duck, to do SOMETHING. She can’t just stand there. She can’t— _won’t_ —go down without a fight. She owes that to herself. She owes that to Catra. She starts to take a step, and-

**Bang.**

Adora flinches, but there’s no impact, no burst of white-hot pain, no dark oblivion. She looks up, just in time to see the gunman stagger back, then topple to the floor, a bullet hole right between his eyes. Slowly, Adora turns to find her partner framed in the doorway, lowering her weapon. Blue eyes meet blue and yellow, and there’s only a beat of silence before Catra cracks a smile.

“Jesus. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

A pent-up breath escapes Adora’s lips in a faint, shocked laugh, which turns into an actual chuckle as bit by bit her body releases its tension.

“Me? I haven’t seen you look that scared since we went in that joyride and came back to find Weaver waiting for us.”

Catra flushes, looking away as she holsters her gun. “Whatever. I think that merited a little concern.”

“Aww, you _do_ care.”

“Shut up,” Catra mutters, and Adora tries not to chuckle as she helps her untie the now-free hostages. For just a moment, she lets herself relax. They’re in. Three terrorists down, hostages freed, and neither of them any worse for wear. Catra’s here, and they’ve got this—after all, nothing has ever been able to stop them when they’re together. 

That warm confidence lasts all of fifteen seconds as she cuts the hostage’s bonds before he spits out his gag and says one word that makes Adora’s blood run cold: “Bomb.”


	2. Thaymore, Part 2

**May 14th, 2010 | 12:43 PM**

Time seems to stand still for a moment as Adora processes the word. She hears Catra curse under her breath, turning away and touching her earpiece. 

“Overwatch, we have reports of an explosive in the building, over.” The crackle of static snaps Adora out of her reverie and she focuses on the man again.

“Bomb? Where? How do you know?” She quickly pulls his gag aside and lets him sit back, rubbing his wrists.

“We saw it when they were moving us around. They had a cylindrical device with a timer on it, two of them carried it somewhere else in the building. The timer was set for fifteen minutes but wasn’t counting down yet. That’s all I know,” he adds, cutting off the questions bubbling up in Adora’s throat. 

The blonde stands, turning to look at her partner. Catra is glancing back at her, too, her expression carefully impassive but her eyes betraying a flash of fear. _This wasn’t part of the mission,_ her eyes seem to say. Adora takes a deep breath, giving her a slight nod back. It is now, she thinks back at Catra, and the brunette seems to get the message.

“Then let’s get to it,” Catra says, drawing her weapon again. “We’ll need to scout out the rest of the building, and we’ve got two gunmen left alive. I’ll take the lower levels, you take the upper ones. We still need to find the mayor and Senator, and chances are they’ll all be in the same place.”

Adora nods agreement. “Keep in radio contact. Don’t engage if you don’t have to, once we find the target we’ll do it together.”

“Together,” Catra agrees. She glances at the now-freed hostages and kicks the fallen terrorist’s gun over to one of them, addressing the group. “I know you want to bolt right now, but we still have two active gunmen. Stay here and stay hidden, and we’ll be back for you, got it?” 

One of the women picks up the firearm as the group murmurs assent. Catra gives Adora one more look and a firm nod, and the two step out into the hall, turning to go their respective ways.

~~~  
**May 14th, 2010 | 12:49 PM**

Catra crept quietly down the basement hallway, the quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights the only noise besides the nearly-silent scuff of her boots on the concrete floor. City hall was a lot less classy down in the sublevels, all cinderblock walls and smooth concrete floors. From the layer of dust on all the shelves of records Catra has passed so far, she’d bet good money employees came down here only when directly ordered, or when they lost a bed. 

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, the electric drone, dull-colored hallway, and slight flickering of the lights starting to lull her into a trace. She couldn’t afford to be unfocused now. She keeps her gun raised, quickly checking the corners of each room she enters as she goes door-by-door. Nothing but old records so far, but she had a feeling…

There.

The casual observer would miss it entirely, but Catra’s eye lands on the faint, fresh scratch marks on the concrete floor, making a neat arc directly out from one of the doorways. She slowly steps closer, putting her ear to the door. If she holds her breath she can just hear the slight rustle of movement inside, along with a distinct muffled mumbling. The remaining hostages, maybe? As she listens, the muffled noise stops, allowing her to pick up on something much more concerning: a faint but distinct and consistent digital beeping, every second. She steps back, bracing herself as she taps her earpiece.

“Adora, I’ve got something. Basement level, room...” She glances at the nameplate next to the door, “...023. I hear people inside, and I think I might hear the bomb, too.”

Catra pauses as a sickening realization strikes her. “...Adora, it’s already counting down. They must have heard the shots.” How long did they have? The man upstairs had told them fifteen minutes, but when had it actually been activated? Catra’s grip tightens on her gun as she thinks about it. They could have minutes...seconds, even, before the whole building came down.

“...tra? Catra, come in,” Adora’s voice reaches her through her earpiece.

“Huh..? Yeah, I’m here.”

“I was just saying, hold tight. I’m on my way, just give me a minute or two to get there.” They might not even _have_ that long. Catra swallows, weighing the options. They knew one of the gunmen had been in the upper floors, so really odds were there was only one hostile at most inside.

In fact, he might not even be there. He would have gone to look for his compatriots after activating the bomb, right? Catra shifts from foot to foot anxiously, anxiety gnawing a hole in her stomach. What if…?

“No,” She says into the radio.

“What? Catra, just hold on a second-”

“We might not _have_ a second, Adora. I’m going in, see you when you get here,” Catra growls. She gathers herself, and without any further ado takes two quick steps and slams her shoulder into the door, bursting into the room with her weapon raised.

It’s a tiny space, barely more than a closet, with the same white cinderblock walls and cement floor as the rest of this level. There’s a few stacks of spare chairs along the walls, a door to some kind of side-closet, and some rusting filing cabinets, but Catra’s eyes land on what’s in the center of the room.

Thaymore Mayor Reynolds, a short balding man in a tweed suit, kneeling on the dusty floor. His hands are bound behind his back and a strip of duct tape covers his mouth, but his eyes are wide and pleading as he looks up at Catra. Beside him, a larger man, clearly in good shape, his thick black hair streaked with grey only making his dark eyes gleam all the darker. He’s bound similarly to Mayor Reynolds—the other hostage, then. Senator Micah Brightmoon. Then Catra sees the third thing in the middle of the room.

A sleek steel cylinder, a few wires and delicate piping along the sides. And a big, prominent digital timer right in the center, ticking down the seconds with cold indifference. Just over ten minutes left. Catra lowers her weapon, quickly moving over to glance over the exterior of the device. Polished steel, small screws at the seams. Difficult to defuse, probably, but not impossib-

A stifled grunting makes her look up. Senator Brightmoon’s eyes burn into hers as he tries to growl something through his gag, jerking his head desperately towards the wall. Not the wall, the chairs...no, the closet door that’s beginning to open-

Catra snatches up her gun, leaping to her feet and starting to raise it-

Too late.

~~~  
**May 14th, 2010 | 12:51 PM**

Adora bounds down the stairs two at a time, three at a time, practically hurdling a whole flight as she rushes to the basement. The background police chatter had mentioned one of the unknown hostiles had been glimpsed on the top floor, so she doesn’t bother being quiet as she slams out the stairwell door into the under-level, hitting her radio.

“Catra?! Catra, I’m almost there, whe-”

There’s a sudden series of staccato cracks like thunder and Adora flinches, jerking around to point her gun down the featureless hallway. Nothing. But that meant...

“Catra…?”

No response.

Adora begins to walk down the hallway, her knuckles white as she squeezes the grip of her pistol. There, just ahead, room 023. The door’s even slightly open. Adora can feel her heart beating in her throat, which is funny because she could have sworn it stopped the moment she heard those gunshots. She gathers herself and rushes forward, kicking the door open and snapping her gun up, about to shoot at anything that so much as twitches when the acrid smell of gunpowder and the distinct metallic scent of blood reach her, just as the scene before her registers.

Two hostages on their knees. One gunman with three red splotches in his chest, slumped against the wall still halfway in a closet. A ticking, slightly dented bomb—and Catra slumped against it, her breathing shallow as she clutches her side, trying to stem the red stain spreading across her suit and beginning to form a dark puddle under her.

“No…” Adora breathes. “Catra!” She rushes over, instinctively reaching out to shake her partner by the shoulder but catching herself and snatching her hand away. Best not to jostle her, Adora thinks, breath hitching as she catches the glint of those heterochromatic eyes.

“H...hey, Adora,” Catra mumbles weakly. A wave of relief crashes down on the blonde as she lets out the breath she’d been holding. Alive. Catra was alive. Her relief is torn away yet again, though, when her eyes fall again to sickeningly scarlet stain Catra’s side.

“You’re hit!”

“Y-yeah…” The brunette grunts, pressing a hand weakly against her side. “My leg, too.” She jerks her chin and Adora sees the ragged hole in the leg of her pants, torn fabric beginning to darken with blood.

“I was stupid, let my guard down...I should’ve listened to you,” Catra gasps sharply as Adora gets an arm under her to lift her into a sitting position, the way she cringes in pain making Adora’s heart twist. The blonde can’t take her eyes off the rapidly spreading stain in the side of Catra’s bodysuit, the bleeding, she had to stop the bleeding…

“Don’t talk like that,” Adora snaps, drawing her combat knife and reaching over to cut a wad of fabric from the dead terrorist’s sleeve. “You did what you thought was best and there’s no changing it now.” She presses the bunched-up cloth to Catra’s side, inciting a sharp cry of pain from the brunette. _I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry-_ Adora thinks, but grits her teeth and guides Catra’s hand to the wad so she can apply pressure herself. 

She glances over at the bomb for the first time, noting the sleek casing. Clearly no homemade design, then, this was obviously manufactured. And the timer…

The timer was at nine minutes and counting.

“A bomb of this size…” Adora breathes, swallowing as reality seems to crash down on her all at once.

“...the whole building would come down,” Catra finishes the thought, her voice strained. Adora feels something in her chest twist again painfully at the sound of her partner’s distress, but…

“Shit.” Adora sucks in a breath through her teeth, eyeing the silvery device and trying to ignore the crimson droplet slowly dripping off its surface. “Did you call it in?” Catra gestures to the wreckage of her radio on the floor, a bullet having ripped right through it. Adora mumbles another curse and reaches up to touch her earpiece. 

“Overwatch, we have a woman down. Catra’s hit, she’s alive and conscious but can’t move. We’re in the basement with the bomb, along with Senator Brightmoon and Mayor Reynolds. Countdown to detonation is…” She glances down and winces. “...eight minutes and counting. Please advise.”

There’s a few seconds of static, then the familiar cool drawl of Director Weaver comes over the radio. “Excellent work locating the hostages and bomb, Adora. Why has Catra failed to check in?”

“Her radio was destroyed in the shooting, Director,” Adora replies, adding the title for Catra’s benefit as her partner watches her, jerking her chin pointedly at the ticking timer.

“Hm. How unfortunate. Well then, Agent Grayskull, carry on and extract the hostages.”

Adora blinks, taken aback. Catra gives her a look, gesturing to her ear, still deaf to the conversation. _What’s going on?_ she mouths. Adora shakes her head mutely “D-Director…?”

“Why, Agent Grayskull, I _know_ I don’t need to remind you that the mission _always_ comes first. You and Agent D’riluth were sent in to rescue those hostages, at all costs.”

“But Catra-” Adora sees her partner’s eyes widen at the mention of her name, the brunette visibly becoming more tense, unsettled to be left out of the discussion.

“ _Catra_ can begin to work on defusing the bomb. You both went through basic training, she should be able to make some decent progress, hopefully buy some time. She’s clearly too injured to move herself, and would only slow you down. You, Adora, need to escort the senator and the other hostages out of the building in the event that Agent D’riluth fails to stop the countdown.”

“I...Director, I can’t just…”

“You can, and must, agent. That is a direct order. You must focus, Adora—you know that the mission takes priority. Overwatch out,” Weaver snaps, and the line goes dead.

 _Focus, Adora_. Director Weaver’s voice echoes in Adora’s head, a shiver running down the blonde’s spine. She sucks in a breath and blinks, forcing herself to look away from Catra. “...I... right.” she mumbles, her mind racing a mile a minute. Could she call in support? No time. Get the bomb out? Again, no time. They were alone with a bomb and six hostages and rapidly dwindling time. She screws her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands to her temples.

“Adora…?” Catra’s voice penetrates the whirling cloud of indecision in her mind, and Adora opens her eyes again. There’s only one option, Weaver was right. Of _course_ she was right. Adora moves over to the hostages, quickly drawing her knife to cut through their bonds, helping them to their feet.

“All right. Mr. Mayor, Senator, I need to get you out of here. We have to get to the second floor, there’s a few other hostages there and we can get out via the fire escape. Catra…” she turns to her partner sitting with her back against the bomb, clutching a bloody rag to her side, and her words die in her throat. Catra’s look is utter disbelief, her eyes shining and mouth agape, looking at Adora as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

“Adora, what’s going on? You’re...leaving?”

Adora flinches, but she’s already shaking her head. “I...I have to, Catra, I have to get them out of here. That’s the mission.”

“You’re _leaving me here_.” Catra’s words are cold, sharp enough to cut through iron. Adora can’t look her in the eye. 

“...You’re injured. I can’t move you, and there’s another gunman still out there—I have to be able to fight, so I can’t carry you either. Listen, I need you to work on defusing the bomb. Remember, we learned the basics in boot camp, maybe you can buy a little time. If you can-”

The look in Catra’s eyes stops her short. She’s never seen her partner look so...lifeless. Usually there’s the usual spark of humor or mischief in her eyes, but the blue and yellow orbs meeting Adora’s gaze are dull, empty but for a slight flicker of cold fury.

“I’ll come back,” Adora promises, taking an almost involuntary step away. She makes herself turn, half-pushing the two men out the door. “I promise, Catra, I’ll come back for you. Start defusing, you’re our only hope if this takes a turn!” Adora forces herself to look away. She feels Catra’s eyes boring into her back as she hustles Micah and Mayor Reynolds from the room into the cold hallway. 

She’d come back. She _would_. Catra was more than just her partner, she didn’t actually think Adora would just abandon her down here...did she?

_Focus._

The phantom whisper of Weaver’s voice once again snaps Adora back to reality. “This way, sir,” she orders, running for the stairs. “Follow me.”

~~~  
**May 14th, 2010 | 12:54 PM**

It took hardly any time to guide the politicians upstairs to where the other hostages were waiting. From the police chatter over the radio, it sounded like they were still catching glimpses of the final gunman on the upper floors—could he really be unaware of everything happening below him? Ultimately, it didn’t matter, as long as they managed to stay clear of him. Adora knocked carefully on the office door.

“It’s Agent Grayskull, from earlier. Please don’t shoot us,” she called, then opened it. One of the men from earlier was indeed training the gun on the door, but lowered it as she came in. “Everyone all right?”

The former hostages nod, looking understandably weary. The woman speaks up. “Weren’t there two of you before?”

Adora flinches, then forces herself to keep a calm, collected face. “...Yes. Agent D’riluth is dealing with the explosive. Speaking of which, we need to get you all out of here. Stay close to me and do NOT wander off, understood?” She looks around to ensure they all nod before taking a deep breath. “All right. Here we go.”

The hallway outside the administrative office is still quiet. Adora checks both ways, gun at the ready, but there’s still no sign of the surviving terrorist. She waves to the civilians and hurries down towards the room she and Catra had entered from, glancing down at her watch. Less than five minutes. She shakes her head and picks up her pace, bursting into the side office. The first terrorist’s corpse still lies on the ground inside, sitting in a quickly-drying pool of blood. She ignores it and quickly beckons the group along, moving over to the window before hitting her radio. 

“Overwatch, I have the hostages. They’re coming out the entry point.” With that, she waves Mayor Reynolds over and gives him a boost through the window onto the fire escape outside. Senator Brightmoon is next, but he pauses to squeeze Adora’s shoulder as he steps up to the window.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice full of nothing but sincerity. “I won’t forget this, I promise.” A moment later he’s gone, climbing down after the mayor. The rest of the hostages follow in short order, Adora hopping out right after them. As soon her feet hit the ground, she flinches at the thunderclap of a gunshot, and a cheer comes over her radio. The final gunman had strayed too close to a window and been picked off by one of the waiting snipers. Adora breathes a small sigh of relief—that’s one less thing to worry about.

Moving as quickly as possible, she guides the group away from city hall to the police perimeter. A group of paramedics and officers are waiting, quickly pulling the hostages away and hurrying them off to be properly taken care of. 

Adora turns, pushing back through the crowd of national guards and gawking civilians to make her way back towards the town hall, breaking past the police line to run back towards the door. 

_I’m on my way, Catra, just hold on a minute longer_ , was Adora’s last thought before an earth-shaking explosion knocked her off her feet, the shockwave rocking the ground like an earthquake. 

Adora felt herself hit the ground and tasted blood in her mouth. She reached up shakily to touch the side of her face and her hand came away sticky with blood. She slowly raised her gaze to take in the smoldering wreckage that had been the town hall, the building now reduced to nothing but rubble. Blue eyes reflected the small fires dotting the ruins as the cloud of dust and smoke slowly began to clear.

_“CATRA…!”_

~~~

_“At precisely 1:00 PM this Sunday, May 14th, the Thaymore town hall collapsed after a catastrophic explosion went off in the basement of the building. The explosion was caused by an incendiary device planted there by a small team of terrorists who had taken a group of hostages earlier that day. HORDE operatives were able to eliminate the terrorists and rescue all the hostages. However, one HORDE agent was not able to escape the building in time and has been pronounced killed in action after the search effort failed to locate her. No known terrorist group has yet claimed responsibility for this attack. And now for the weather…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that could have gone better.
> 
> That's it for the prologue. The story proper will start up in the next chapter with Adora's new position. See you after Season 5, everyone!
> 
> -Cross


	3. Octavia, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Thaymore, Adora finds a whole new world opened up to her: a new job, a new partner, and a new mission.

**May 14th, 2015 | 11:25 PM**

Adora winced and shifted her weight, trying to get away from the gear digging into her ribs as she lay prone on the grassy hillside above the target. It wasn’t much to look at: a small cluster of a couple concrete huts, with two...no, there was a third, three guards wandering around between them.

“Looks like we haven’t raised any alarms yet,” she murmurs to her partner beside her. “I count three hostiles on patrol. Our objective is probably in that bunker there.” Adora points to the slightly larger structure at the end of the row of shelters. Just as unassuming as the rest of this base, but that was sort of the idea. Militant mercenary groups like KRAK-N usually preferred to keep a low profile—made them harder to find when the authorities came knocking. But even the Appalachian mountains weren’t enough to hide from PAZ.

“All right. Make sure you’re locked and loaded, we’re going in Cat-” Adora freezes, wincing as her partner raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. Ready, Glimmer?”

Her fellow agent nods, checking her watch. “We’re right on schedule, too. I’ll go in, get a drop on the first one. You make some commotion and I’ll help you with the other two. Got it?”

Adora nods affirmative, and the pink-haired woman gives her a confident grin. “See you in a few.” Glimmer taps the diamond symbol at her chest, activating her optic camouflage and blinking out of sight with her distinctive flash of sparkles. Adora hears her moving away and pushes herself up to a crouch, checking her weapon one more time as she mentally kicks herself for the slip-up. 

Five years. Five years to the day since that fateful mission, since she had lost Catra and been catapulted into the spotlight. In the aftermath of Thaymore, hardly anyone had remembered Catra as anything more than a nameless HORDE agent who had tragically been killed in the rescue mission, while Adora was the hero of the hour—but Adora _couldn’t_ forget. Even after half a decade she found herself slipping up like she had with Glimmer, or looking for a telltale flash of blue and yellow eyes. 

Adora takes a deep breath and forces herself to return her focus to the mission. She couldn’t afford to be distracted on the job. _You can’t afford distractions. Distractions means lives lost, Adora. You’ll have time to reminisce later_. The agent shakes her head and pushes herself to her feet, creeping down the hill to join her partner. 

Adora comes to a stop behind one of the shelters, listening carefully as she hears the quiet tread of footsteps approaching the corner. Her hand goes to her pistol, then she reconsiders, gathering herself to attack.

As the guard rounds the corner, totally unsuspecting and with his rifle cradled lazily in his arms, Adora drops low and sweeps out his feet. The man barely has time to yelp before he hits the ground, his gun clattering to the dirt out of his reach. He groans, starting to get up before Adora is on him again, wrapping an arm around his throat and dragging him back behind the shelter, firmly out of sight.

The guard thrashes silently, hands clawing at Adora’s arm as she chokes him out. Gradually his struggles weaken until the falls limp in her hold, unconscious. Adora carefully lets him loose and is just beginning to peek around the corner when she hears the telltale hum of Glimmer’s suit. She glances back, finding the pink-haired woman crouching a few feet behind her.

Glimmer gives Adora a grin. “She’s in there all right—and there’s not even another guard or anything. Maybe the rest of these KRAK-N guys are out on a mission or something, or maybe they just got cocky. Either way, this should be a piece of cake.”

Adora nods, returning her teammate’s smile. “Perfect. What about the other two guards out here?”

“I already took out one of them, so there’s only one left now. Let’s pick him off as he loops around.” Glimmer jerks her chin at the corner of the structure. Adora peers around it carefully, just in time to see the final guard pass by across the camp, beginning to make a circuit back to the larger structure. She looks back at Glimmer and nods. “All right. You draw him, I’ll drop him.”

“You got it,” Glimmer agrees, tapping her chest and fizzling out of sight.

Adora darts across the dark compound, slipping easily from shadow to shadow as she moves to intercept the remaining guard. She ducks behind the cover of an ATV parked alongside one of the cement structures, which seems to be the base’s garage. 

No sooner is she in position than Glimmer gets to work and the sound of a small crash echoes through the camp from farther down the row of buildings. Immediately the guard whirls towards it, raising his gun. “Who’s there?” he shouts in a gruff voice, cautiously beginning to make his way towards the source of the noise—a path that leads him directly past Adora’s hiding spot.

He goes down a bit harder than the other soldier—he had been on edge, after all, almost expecting someone to jump out at him. Still, it was child’s play for Adora to silence the man with a sharp chop to his windpipe followed by a quick blow to the head that made him crumple to the ground, unconscious. 

“And then there was one,” Adora says aloud as Glimmer shimmers back into existence beside her. “Let’s finish this.”

~~~  
 **May 14th, 2015 11:45**

Glimmer and Adora flank the door of the central structure of the KRAK-N compound, weapons drawn. Across from her, Adora sees Glimmer raise a fist, counting down to entry—a motion so familiar that she has to make a conscious effort to stay focused in the present rather than getting lost in the past again. She rubs her eyes quickly and gives Glimmer a nod that her partner returns.

_Three. Two. One._   
**Go.**

Adora bursts through the door, immediately zeroing in on the sole occupant. The hulking, one-eyed woman barely has time to scramble to her feet before she’s forced to freeze, staring down the barrel of Adora’s gun. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t PAZ. I should have known your little princess alliance would show up eventually,” Octavia Hernandez growls, her expression twisting into a snarl. Adora sees her glance at her desk and clicks the safety off her gun.

“Don’t even think about it. Octavia Hernandez, you are hereby under arrest for using the KRAK-N mercenary organization as a front for smuggling, terrorism, and piracy. How about you make this easier for both of us and surrender, hm?”

Octavia’s snarl turns into a sneer. “Surrender? Not on your life, princess.” She reaches behind her, just beginning to draw the handgun at the small of her back before yelping in alarm as an invisible force grabs her wrist, forcing her arm to a painful angle behind her back.

“Ah ah ah,” Glimmer chides, shimmering back into visibility behind her. “Let’s not get nasty.” A quick twist of Octavia’s arm sends the one-eyed mercenary to the floor. Adora holsters her weapon as Glimmer sets about handcuffing their target. Octavia can only glower up at the blonde agent as her partner kneels on her back, effectively pinning her. 

The pink-haired woman looks, her happy expression a direct contrast to Octavia’s hateful glare. “Easy-peasy, right?” She grins, and for a second Adora thinks she sees a flash of blue and yellow eyes before she blinks and it’s gone.

Adora forces herself to grin back. “Easy peasy.”

~~~

In the days following Thaymore, Adora had been caught dead center in the middle of the ensuing media storm. She was the perfect poster girl, after all: the heroic HORDE agent who had single-handedly taken out five gunmen and rescued six hostages from an exploding building. In each narrative Catra was a footnote at best, nonexistent at worst, relegated to the most minor of side roles to Adora’s heroism. It sickened her. Adora knew Catra didn’t have any family, didn’t even have many friends—besides, well, Adora herself. Did anyone even know to mourn her? Did anyone even care? The thought alone had kept Adora up for several sleepless nights.

Which is why she had been caught completely off guard when the other boot finally dropped. 

_When Adora arrived at work only to find Director Weaver waiting at the door, she was certain she was in trouble. The woman always had an air of annoyance about her, but today it was a more intense sense of displeasure than usual._

_“Adora,” Weaver drawled. “Good of you to join us. There’s someone here to see you.”_

_“More press?” Adora’s shoulders sagged and she held back an exhausted groan. If she had to tell her whole story in yet another interview, she might just defenestrate some poor journalist._

_Weaver’s lips had twisted in a vaguely disgusted scowl. “No.” Without another word, she had turned and led Adora directly into her office. A very tall, almost ethereally beautiful woman had gotten to her feet as they entered to give Adora a polite smile as she extended her hand, Weaver shutting the door with a click behind them._

_“You must be Agent Adora Greyskull, yes? My name is Angella Brightmoon. I believe you met my husband, and although I’m sure you’re sick of hearing it, I want to thank you for everything you did that day.”_

_Adora had shaken Angella’s hand with some trepidation. “Um, you’re welcome. Just doing my job. Is that all this is about?” She glanced to Weaver as the dark woman glided over to take a seat at her desk._

_A faint smile ghosted across Angella’s face. “No. Not at all. You see, Adora, I represent a very, very clandestine organization, and I have a proposition for you.”_

As it happened, Angella Brightmoon was not just a representative but the director of what seemed to be the most secret, and most elite, spy agency in the world: Peacekeeper Association Zero ( _“...or Princess Alliance Zero, if you prefer,” Angella had added with some amusement. “That’s what the other girls call it.”_ ) Answering directly to the United Nations, PAZ was designed to be the ultimate sword of justice, dealing with the global threats other agencies could not—or would not. As an international organization, PAZ was trusted as a neutral party, carrying out its operations unswayed by the agenda of any one country.

In short, PAZ was the best of the best, organized to bring down the worst of the worst. And it was exactly the opportunity Adora had needed: a chance to start over, with new faces and a new agency. A chance to move on, leaving HORDE and all its baggage in the past.

So she took it. Within a month, she was moving into her new quarters at PAZ headquarters and beginning her new life. 

~~~  
 **May 14th, 2015 | 3:44 PM**

_“You’re...leaving?”_

_“I...I have to, Catra. I have to get them out of here. That’s the mission.”_

_“You’re **leaving me here**.”_

_“I’ll come back for you. I promise.”_

“Heads up, ladies!” A male voice jerks Adora awake. She grunts, sitting up in the helicopter seat and rubbing her eyes, painful memories fading away with the vestiges of sleep. 

“We’re coming up on home base. Place your tray tables in the upright positions and thank you for flying with Swift Airlines.” Adora glances towards the cockpit, shooting her pilot a grin as the helicopter descends towards an unusual shape rising from the ocean. She turns back to the window, Glimmer jostling at her shoulder to get a look as Swift Wind guides them down to the Crystal Castle. 

The Crystal Castle. Once an abandoned oil rig, it had been retrofitted into a state-of-the-art headquarters for PAZ use only. Its isolated position in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean ensured that no one nation could stake claim to it, and the specially designed mirrors that paneled each section of the base reflected the surrounding ocean in such a way as to make it nearly invisible to any passing ship or aircraft. The same mirrors, of course, had earned the place its nickname: “Covert Peacekeeper Assembly Station BM-2” didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, after all.

A ground crew rushed to the landing pad as their helicopter set down, shielding themselves from the downwash of the rotor as they hauled open the bay doors, helping Adora and Glimmer out of the craft. Adora stretched her stiff joints, blinking in the sunlight. She stumbles slightly as one of the crew approaching the craft bumps into her, but waves off his murmured apology, glancing after him as he moves to the rear of the transport to join another armed guard in pulling Octavia out of her cell. The towering mercenary blinks as her one good eye adjusts to the bright light outside her prison in the rear of the chopper. She manages to shoot a glare at Adora and Glimmer before the guards escort her off to the detention wing of the base.

Adora feels Glimmer nudge her. “It’ll be awhile before she’s ready to be questioned. C’mon, let’s go see Bow. He keeps yapping my ear off about these awesome new gadgets he’s been working on.” The shorter woman hooks Adora’s elbow and begins to march her off in another direction before a sharp female voice cuts through the noise of the platform.

“Not so fast, Glimmer. You know protocol.”

Adora can’t help but smirk as her partner visibly deflates, heaving a sigh. “Yes, mom…” The pink-haired woman grumbles, and Adora quickly hides her grin as the willowy director of PAZ approaches them.

Director Brightmoon had always carried a natural air about her that commanded respect, despite her lean figure and unassuming features. After Adora had formally begun work under PAZ, Angella’s stern demeanor had put her off at first. However, with time (and a few conversations with Glimmer), Adora had come to understand that the intimidating visage of the Director was only one of the faces Angella used. When not on the record, the woman was not above loosening up around her agents, treating them with an almost motherly warmth that starkly contrasted with her aloof detachment while on duty.

“Agent Greyskull.” The mention of her name makes Adora instinctively straighten to attention. 

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I trust your mission went according to plan?”

“Yes, ma’am. Locating the safehouse was easy with the tracker dart Bow gave us, and the guards put up only minimal resistance. Capturing Octavia from there was almost too simple.”

“Very good,” Angella nods, glancing back at her pouting daughter and raising a thin eyebrow. “Now, you’ll both report directly to debriefing, yes? I’m sure Bow can wait another hour or so for you to follow standard procedure.”

“Fine,” Glimmer mumbles, crossing her arms and inciting a small eye roll from Adora. For a grown woman Glimmer could be awfully childish when it came to her mother. Adora sees Angella looking at her and coughs abruptly. “Um, yes, of course ma’am!”

“Very good.” Angella gives the two of them a small, satisfied smile and walks off to take Swift Wind aside, no doubt inquiring about the details of their flight. This time it’s Adora’s turn to elbow Glimmer.

“Come on, it won’t be long. Best to get it over with while the mission is still fresh, then we can see whatever crazy new gadgets Bow has cooked up, okay?”

“All right,” Glimmer sighs, giving Adora a grateful smile. Adora returns it and tosses an arm around the pink-haired woman’s shoulders as they make their way off the landing pad.

**May 14, 2015 | 4:31 PM**

About half an hour into debriefing, Adora realizes she’s been through interrogation sessions less painful than this.

She’s slouched down in her chair in front of Dr. Hope’s desk, returning the psychologist’s cool, blank gaze with a glare. Glimmer sits next to her, head nodding slightly as she struggles not to doze off in the middle of the woman’s seemingly endless questioning. Dr. Hope seems entirely nonplussed, her face perfectly stoic as always, not a flicker of empathy in the pale eyes that contrast so sharply with her dark complexion.

“Did you experience any feelings of regret, insecurity, or excessive fear when accosting the target? Stressful situations can sometimes incite significant psychological-”

“For the fiftieth time, _no_!” Adora groans, slumping further down in her seat. “The mission went off without a hitch! We went in, we grabbed the target, we got out. There weren’t even any casualties!”

Dr. Hope pauses a moment before closing the manila folder sitting before her on the desk and entwining her fingers. “Agent Greyskull, I understand that my questioning may seem excessive, but I assure you that-”

“...that it is all necessary, mandated for all agents by our UN charter, and strictly confidential. I know, I know,” Adora mumbles, forcing herself to sit up with a sigh. Hope’s expression seems like it could have been etched in stone, but Adora imagines she can make out the tiniest flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Look, with all due respect, doctor...I promise you Glimmer and I are totally fine. This was one of the _least_ perturbing missions I have ever been on.”

“Be that as it may,” Dr. Hope begins in the slow, careful tone she reserved for talking to children or particularly difficult subjects. “I am required to ask these questions just as strictly as you are required to answer them after every mission. It’s the job, Adora, and there is no way around that. Now, did you experience-”

She’s cut off for a third time as an ear-splitting klaxon blares in the room, the fluorescent lighting flashing red momentarily as the alarm screeches. Glimmer jerks upright with a yelp, barely catching herself before her chair tips over backwards. A modulated voice speaks over the base’s PA system: 

**“Attention: there has been a security breach in Section 5-FL. Attention: there has been a security breach in Section 5-FL. All auxiliary personnel please proceed to your proper stations. All available agents please proceed according to security protocol. Attention: there has been…”**

The message continues to loop as the alarm, only slightly muted, continues to wail. For a split-second, Adora could swear she saw Dr. Hope actually frown—whether from irritation at the deafening noise, or at the frustration of being interrupted yet again, Adora can’t tell. As soon as it appears, it’s gone again, and the psychologist stands up from her seat, towering over the two seated agents. “Well. It seems there are more pressing matters to attend to. Proceed to your posts, agents, and we’ll reconvene later,” the psychologist promises calmly, picking up her folder and nodding to the door.

“Yes ma’am!” Adora responds quickly, catching Glimmer’s eye as the two jump to their feet in unison, giving Dr. Hope a brief salute before practically sprinting out the office door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this took longer to work out than I expected, but part 2 is on its way! As always, kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I finally did it. I went and wrote a fanfic, or started on at least. I've been working on this for a while but decided the release of the new season would be my deadline to finish the first chapter. Or, well, prologue. Kudos is appreciated if you enjoyed, and feedback is welcome!
> 
> -Cross


End file.
